Unfortunate encounters
by Nebelblau
Summary: Being a wizard meant having a sixth sense for summoning Death in the most inappropriate situations


There are many seasons. There are the four seasons, spring, summer, autumn and winter even though the definition of each of those seasons may differ in different parts of the discworld. For the yeti, summer meant -20 °C, an average of three snowstorms a week and more travellers bringing food (themselves) and other goods.

For the klatschian foreign legion, winter meant three rain showers per month albeit they tend to forget yesterday's weather and which day today was, so winter was a metaphorical concept for them.

The minor seasons included wedding season, child birth season (in average 7 months after wedding season), harvest season and assassination season (after all, the Assassins Guild has to host its final exams at some time). Of course, there was also a season for strange happenings but unlike the other seasons this season didn't come in logic intervals. It's said only the wizards at the Unseen University know the formula to determine when the next season of strange happenings is about to arrive but they refused to share this knowledge with everyone else.

It's said at the Unseen University itself that the tradition to refuse sharing this secret formula started with Alberto Malich, the founder, who refused to share the secret formula with everybody else and that's why no arch chancellor ever knew what is happening around them. Also, due to the magic inside the university the wizards where often simply the first victims of any disturbance of the universe. They were often also the only victims.

It started when multiple fireflies (read as little matches with wings) started to flow through the castle, setting clothes, overdue homework and a bush of roses ablaze. It reached its peak when arch chancellor Ridcully's bed grew wings and flew towards the tower of arts where it started to build a nest. This event caused Ridcully to almost have an existential crisis as the furniture had grown duck wings and no wizard should ever be forced to hunt down their own bed with a crossbow, it was against their nature. A wizard's bed was a sacred place especially if it belonged to Mustrum Ridcully (he had even had multiple arguments with a certain brotherly high priest of Io about this topic) and shouldn't be shot or otherwise harmed even if it started to turn into a duck.

Stibbon's remark that ducks don't usually build their nest among high places and therefore his bed had to belong to a different species, almost placed an arrow in his less sacred wizard hat.

Whenever it was time for the seasons of strange happenings, it was also times to perform the rite of AshkEnte. If anybody knew what kept the world together and what did not, it was Death.

Eight powerful and tired wizards (if the arch chancellor couldn't get sleep no other faculty member got some either) formed a circle and spoke the ancient spell. Colourful bolts and smoke filled the chamber and within the centre of the chaos stood Death.

ALWAYS AT THE MOST INCONVENIENT TIME POSSIBLE.

Instead of his usual scythe Death had a shower brush in one hand and he used his other hand to cover up his pelvis with a black piece of fabric. There were still a few bubbles resting on his bones and he even wore a matching black shower cap.

The entire room fell silent. Only I single "Ook?" could be heard.

WHY YOU ASK? IT WOULD BE UNHYGIENIC TO NOT TAKE A SHOWER AFTER THE LATEST OUTBREAK OF TUBERCULOSIS.

Gladly, nobody dared to ask him how Death could be affected by whatever ailment struck a body through their soul. They agreed to summon him again in fifteen minutes.

When they summoned him again, Death appeared in a sitting position. He sat on a small, garden chair decorated with pink ribbons and a matching table had come with it. A lovely little tea service was placed on top of it and Death was just about to take a sip of tea. He looked completely out of place and not just because the furniture had clearly not been designed with a 7 feet skeleton in mind (technically, the furniture was designed for a three year old girl who currently sat on the second chair in another dimension and who was pouting right now).

"Er...were you on a date?", the first wizard asked him curiously and the others quickly glared at him.

"Shush, don't ask Death such intimate and private questions", his neighbour told him. Quietly he added: "Whom is he supposed to date anyway? Life?"

YES, INDEED. IT'S A PLAYDATE.

Death took a long sip from his cup and even slurped loudly to underline his annoyance.

The wizards all looked at each other, each one believing his failing hearing (you learn to hear and see only the important things as you grow older they say) played him a prank. Death was hosting play dates in his realm? That must have been some form of miscommunication.

Ridcully was the first to regain his composure.

"Death, which disturbance caused this latest outbreak of magical madness?"

THE USUAL SUSPECT.

"Did the alchemists discover an ancient force again?"

NO.

"Did a certain priest of Io the Blind try to play me, Arch Chancellor Ridcully, a prank involving my bed. Again."

NOT IN THE LAST FORTY YEARS.

"Did a barbarian or any other adventurer break into an ancient temple and angered the gods."

YES, BUT THIS DOESN'T USUALLY ANGER GODS, IT'S PART OF THE NATURAL REJUVENATING PROCESS OF TEMPLES.

"So who else could the usual suspect be?"

Death took another sip.

RINCEWIND. HE HAD A BET PLACED ON HIM BY THE LADY AND TRIED TO RUN AWAY FROM IT. ACTUALLY SUCCEEDED IN DOING SO BUT HE HAS AN APPOINTMENT WITH ME IN TWO DAYS, THINGS SHOULD BE BACK TO NORMALITY AGAIN.

Ridcully fumed, more than usual.

"I swear, I'll make this Rincewind a professor, binding him to this university walls for eternity and keep him from running away."

Then he grabbed his crossbow and walked towards the tower of art where his bed had already grown a beak and tried to woo the local crows.

"As I said, it's definitely not a duck."

The first arrow flew into Ponder Stibbons direction.


End file.
